Untitled
by zensapphire
Summary: Pretty much what I hope book 7 will be similar too. Harry and Hermione. Maybe Lupin and Tonks.
1. Chapter 1

Wormtail's Debt

Spinner's End had hardly ever been as busy before; not until last year had Snape allowed uninvited guests to enter his household, and since then apparently he had relaxed his policies by giving stay to the very unwelcome Draco Malfoy.

"You must eat," Snape ordered. "You are growing thinner and paler each passing day. What will your mother say when she sees you like this? She will think I abused you!"

"She wouldn't be far off," Draco spat back. In just the short period of time since they had escaped from Hogwarts, Draco had lost all fondness for Severus Snape. Draco had refused all offers for rations, better clothing, a comfy bed - they were excellent temptations: the finest delecacies and wines, expensive garments and all the stops - but Draco knew that they were mere plays.

"Do you think I like you staying here? You failed to fulfill your master's orders. If it wasn't for me the situation could have been disastrous, yet here you are, protected in my house. You are lucky the Dark Lord has spared you, so far."

"Fine. If you don't want me here I'll just leave." He tried to move, but Snape pulled out his wand and forced Draco back into his chair without speaking a single incantation. He continued, by forcing the chair against a wall, and pressing a table to Draco's chest, completely restricting his movements. He then levitated a large platter containing his dinner along with a glass half-filled with wine. Draco couldn't do much to defend himself, as he was not allowed to hold his own wand.

"If you continue to behave like this I cannot be held responsible for my actions. Perhaps the Crucio curse would teach you to act more accordingly." Draco glared, and with one swoop of his arm, sent his dinner crashing off the table and onto the carpet. He dared Snape to do as his words intended, but there was no Crucio curse.

"Wormtail!" Snape barked. "Prepare our guest another dinner. You will do a better job this time, and then you will clean up the mess on the floor after you are done."

"Yes, master," Wormtail obeyed shakingly, then scurried into the kitchen.

"Your mother will be here tomorrow morning," Snape reminded, returning his anger to Draco. "I do not want her to see her son in such a state, as scrawny as Harry Potter. You will do well to eat your dinner, comb your hair, and change into cleaner clothes."

"What? Do you have a crush on her or something?" Draco mocked. "Think you can order me around like a father? Is that why you made the unbreakable vow?"

"You will not speak such nonsense in front of her!" This time Malfoy was nearly afraid of how angry Snape looked. "I am very careful in choosing who I love."

"Of course. I know all about you. You-"

"Don't say it!"

Wormtail reappeared with the new dinner. He placed it on Draco's table carefully, quickly scooped the remains of the previous meal into a bag and tried to leave the room immediately, but Snape gave him another order.

"Get the mail," he commanded.

"The mail?"

"You heard me." This was the first time Wormtail had ever been ordered to get the mail. He was under the impression that nobody wrote to this house. "Hurry! Narcissa may have changed the scheduled pick up time."

Wormtail hurried to fireplace (the only way letters could enter was trough the chimney) and discovered that the letter was neither from Narcissa nor was it even addressed to Snape; it was sent to him! He checked behind his back nervously, but Snape wasn't looking at him as he was still busy trying to force Draco to eat. Slowly, he opened the letter and read it, which didn't take long as it was quite short:

I saved your life.  
It's your turn to repay your debt.  
Tell me how to get to Godric's Hollow.

Harry

"What's taking you so long?" Snape shouted. Wormtail fumbled the letter in his hands, and without much time to think of what to do, he stuffed it in his mouth and chewed it down his throat in a very ratlike fashion. He then quickly returned to the room where Draco was eating.

"There was no letter, master," Wormtail reported quite unnaturally, being careful not to let pieces of paper slip from his mouth.

"Really? I am sure I heard an owl."

"You are mistaken... master." Snape glowered at him, almost causing him to shrink.

Draco suddenly interrupted defiantly, "I heard no owl either. Must have been your imagination." Snape seemed confused, not sure with whom to be more furious with; it was quite a dilemma. Eventually, he gave up and retired himself to bed.

Draco was still awake when a grandfather clock sounded to indicate midnight. He listened to the sound of a new day, a day that would relieve him of Snape's punishment and send him to his mother's, and then Voldemort's. He was afraid at first, but with time, his fear of death subsided, because he knew very well that there was nothing he could do. It was obvious that Voldemort would extract as much useful information as possible from him, and then use the unblockable killing curse. His only concern now was making sure he didn't kill his mother as well.

The rythmic tolls of the grandfather clock slowly quietened, then disappeared like a baby lulled to sleep. He nearly fell asleep himself, but two new sounds alerted him: an owl and a voice. Slowly and carefully he opened crept out of his room and followed the noises to the fireplace, where Wormtail was trying to climb up the chimney while holding an envelope in its teeth. He barely had begun when he lost his grip and fell, and would have caused a great deal of noise had Draco not caught him.

"What are you doing?" Draco hissed. "Snape could wake up any time now!"

"It is most important!" Wormtail insisted with a blend of determination and fear. "The boy's owl, awaits at the top of this chimney for this letter. Potter - he must at all costs receive this letter! No one else must read it!"

"Potter?" As little as Draco enjoyed the thought of helping Harry Potter, he was not about to let a chance of defying Snape slip from his fingers. "And this letter... it will help him stop Voldemort?"

Wormtail flinched upon hearing the name, but answered, "Yes! It will! It surely will!"

"Give it here. Go back to your room. I don't care if I'm caught. Voldemort's going to kill me anyway."

"Oh, thank you. You are very kind, sir. You'd best be careful." Wormtail didn't argue, and quickly scrambled back to his room as Draco had suggested. He looked up the chimney, and found that it was unimaginably tall and at the very top was a small slit where he could slip the letter through to where Hedwig was waiting.

The only way to make it up was to use both arms and legs, each pressed against a different side of the inside of the chimney, and slowly move upward with the envelope clenched between his teeth. He inhaled deeply then began his ascent. By the time he reached the point where Wormtail had fallen, his entire body was aching, and he also realized why Wormtail had fallen. Not only was the chimney entirely vertical, tall, and nearly impossible to climb, there were magic jinxes and traps there to stop him as well.

Water began seeping through the walls, and he could feel his grip slipping. He dug in deeper, clawing directly into the brick walls, causing his fingers to bleed. He passed the first obstacle, only to realize that there were many more, and he was now handicapped, as the liquid from before was not water, but some sort of poison, causing his hands to burn. He ignored the pain and climbed onward, passing jabbing spears, wasps, and several snakes, one of which had bitten his left wrist.

He was almost there now, only a few more feet, but his next step, however, triggered a thin wire causing another trap to spring: the fireplace automatically closed and the same burning liquid from before reappeared, but this time it came gushing in, filling in the chimney, threatening to drown him.

Just a little more, don't worry about the liquid, he told himself, but he could not move. He was frozen with fear, as a boggart, who happened to live at the top of the cramped chimney, had transformed into a horribly bloodied corpse of Narcissa Malfoy. Draco was crying; one of his feet slipped from the wall and was nearly followed by the rest of his body.

The corpse wiggled toward him, not at all resembling a human, and in a disgusting voice purred, "Join mother... join mother..."

The corpse suddenly yelpt in pain, and Draco snapped out of his fear, and regained his balance. Hedwig had managed to stick one talon through the slit and had attacked the boggart. Draco climbed again, the liquid now burning through his socks, and extended his arm, urging it to reach higher. The boggart disentigrated as soon as it touched the liquid.

I'm a wizard, he told himself. I come from an entirely pure blood family... I was selected into the proud house of Slytherin...

It was only a matter of mere inches, but the gap seemed as wide as the Grand Canyon to the outstreched Draco.

"Fly!" he cried desperately at the letter. "Please! I'll pay more attention to Pansy... I won't call anyone mudbloods anymore... I'll..."

Something had done the trick. The letter floated gently, looking like it might fall, but at last it gained enough altitude to reach Hedwig's talon who quickly flew into the night air, leaving behind a soft hoot as if to express gratitude.

Draco let himself fall into the liquid. The burning was terrible; he felt like his body might rip apart. Every second the pain grew worse until someone ripped open the chimney door and Draco tumbled onto the floor, gasping for air.

Snape glared at him ferociously, not saying a word. Silently, he pointed his wand at the suffering Draco, then spoke the incantation, "Crucio." 


	2. Chapter 2

Visitors

Harry was also awake that night. He hadn't slept well at all that summer; he wasted most of his days and nights opening and closing the locket he had retrieved from the cave last year, listening to its repetitive clunking sounds.

He had initially higher hopes than usual for what was to be his last stay with the Dursleys, having promised with Hermione and Ron last year that they could visit him; however, they had not come and the proposition seemed less likely with his birthday less than a week away.

He knew that Hermione was busy reading, as she had wasted her summersearching endlessy to find the identity of R.A.B., so she probably simply forgot about the promise to come to Privet Drive. Ron, he suspected, was too busy preparing for the wedding and would not be able to come.

Harry had neither received letters from Ginny nor sent letters to her, and he believed it was for the best, but as he opened and closed the locket for probably the millionth time, he admitted to himself that he was disappointed, possibly even hurt that his friends had not arrived. He sighed, took one last look outside his window to see if Hedwig had returned, then went to bed.

He had a dream that night, one that felt so real he thought maybe he was inside Voldemort's mind again, but it was not a dark dream.

He distinctly heard two intruders enter his room through the window, then slowly move closer to his bed. He tried to wake up, but he could not, for the dream was so real he was not even sure if he was sleeping.

As the dream continued, the intruders forms became clearer, and he was able to deciper their voices, which were extremely similar to Hermione's and Ron's.

"This is stupid," Ron groaned groggily, obviously quite tired.

Hermione, however, was wide awake. "This is important!" she insisted sharply yet quietly. "Hurry up! Get in position!"

Ron shuffled closer to the bed, and in the process hit the leg of Harry's desk, causing the locket to fall to the ground and open itself with the force of the impact.

"Be careful!" Hermione shouted silently. "Do you want to wake him"  
After several more shuffles, she instructed, "All right, then move closer, and put your wand on top of our hands." She took in a deep breath, then grabbed hold of Harry's hand.

The next segment of the dream was not as clear as the rest. Next he thought he heard himself talking, mumbling, he couldn't even understand himself. He couldn't even be sure if he was talking. Was he talking in his sleep?

"I do," said Hermione clearly.

Ron gasped in surprise as a flame escaped from his wand.

- more mumbling -

"I do," said Hermione again, clearly.

Another flame escaped.

- mumbling again -

There was a short pause, then Hermione said clearly, "I will."

A final flame emerged from Ron's wand and combined with the two others to form a fiery snake that coiled itself around Hermione and Harry's hands. It was hot, and Harry could feel the pain, and yet the pain did not wake him; he could tell Hermione was suffering, but she focused her mind and held onto his hand more dearly, determined not to let go.

Finally the snake disappeared, and left behind a strange, warm feeling, a comfortable aura that surrounded Harry's hand. Hermione let go, stood up, and took a few paces backward. Her breathing was abnormal; she seemed frightened, as though she was not sure if whether she had just done had worked properly; however, Harry could tell she had the same feeling in her hand, and that feeling seemed to tell her that she had done the right thing.

"C'mon," Ron urged, "let's go." He climbed out the window.

Hermione followed, but then she turned suddenly, and began moving closer to Harry once again. Quickly, she leaned closer, kissed him on his cheek, whispered, "Happy Birthday, Harry," dashed to the window, and disappeared.

Harry awoke at once.

It was morning. Both his mind and heart were racing. It couldn't have been real; when the dream ended it was still night, he could remember the cold wind blowing through the open window... the window!

He scrambled out of bed and tried to stick his head out the window, but his forehead crashed into the glass and he staggered back, nearly falling over. The window wasn't open, and showed no signs of being forced open either.

Rubbing his head, he scanned the room. His eyes stopped when they met the locket, which was on his desk, exactly as he had left it before; not only was it in the exact same position, but also it was closed.

Next, Harry inspected his hand closely. It neither looked different nor felt different. But what was that warm aura he had felt earlier? Maybe it really was, just a dream?

There was one more thing to check. Slowly, Harry raised his hand and touched his cheek. Instantly, his hand began to warm. The aura grew so strongly and quickly that it shocked him and he instantly let go. The feeling disappeared immediately.

He had little time to think on the matter as he heard the doorbell ring, and Vernon shout coldly, "Your friends are here." 


End file.
